The Naked Truth
by Sinister Scribe
Summary: Will not be continuing but i'm leaving it up for the smut. :D
1. Chapter 1

**I know, I know, I know, I'm doing far too many fanfics to be starting any new ones, but this one won't leave me alone so I'm gonna post it anyway. **

**The idea's been floating around for a while now and it was inspired (loosely) by SDoS Wedded Wednesday since y'all wanted a continuation. This will be a completely different tone to that fanfiction though…maybe. **

**This chapter is sort of an extended summary of what is to come. **

**Um, read and review me!**

**A Distracting Lunch**

"So, I was thinking about this new Cancer Wing that you want to open, Dr Cuddy, or how about Lisa, can I call you Lisa?"

Cuddy blinked rapidly and nodded, forcing a smile. Mrs Anne Lochan was a widow with more money than God and less sense than a hamster on narcotics. She was definitely a character but she was wanting to be more and more involved with the hospital that she had 'adopted' to keep her busy since her husband's untimely death. It wasn't like the woman was a second Vogler. She didn't have a vicious bone in her body and certainly wasn't interested in the business side of things. She was interested in 'putting her money to some damn good use instead of letting it sit in a bank and collect dust'. Cuddy was in full agreement with this sentiment it was just trying to trim down the more…outlandish ideas that Mrs Lochan was coming out with.

No, organising a wheelchair grand prix around the campus would not be a good idea. Not even for charity.

Plus, Cuddy needed the money to replace the latest MRI machine that House had taken it upon himself to test the limits of. Apparently he hadn't known about the pin in his patients leg and it had been damaged anyway, all the better for it to come out instead of festering away inside the man's femur. She gave a mental scowl but kept her face in a neutral expression to save insulting Mrs…Anne. She had to call her Anne.

"Hmm, did I tell you I was in New York over the weekend and I went to this fabulous showing of a young artist in Gallery 17, Darsha Cuddy, any relation?"

Perhaps if Cuddy had been better prepared for this conversation. Perhaps if she'd actually been paying attention she wouldn't have given the answer she did. She wouldn't have turned her life upside down in a single sentence.

But Cuddy wasn't prepared for this conversation, hadn't been paying attention and certainly would never have imagined the effects a few words would have on the rest of her life. So she looked up from her tea and blurted the first thing that came into her head.

"Yes, she's my younger sister."

"Oh, really!?" Anne gushed.

Oh shit, thought Cuddy, recognising that look.

"Well, that's just fabulous I _love _her work!" Anne grinned broadly and the sinking feeling in Cuddy's chest expanded. "You should get her to do paintings of the hospital! Oh, oh, and then we can have a big fundraiser auction and the proceeds can go to the new wing!" Anne looked delighted at the idea, Cuddy was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open and she couldn't quite figure out how to stop the runaway train that was Anne Lochan.

"But…there's a problem." Cuddy said a little desperately. There had to be a problem, she just had to think of one in the next three seconds.

"Oh, and what's that?" Anne wanted to know.

"Um…Darsha only ever does portraits…" Cuddy floundered, her sister wasn't exactly known for her mainstream style. "And then only if the model is nude…so how would that work in a hospital?"

Anne frowned and Cuddy felt relief course through her. If it meant that much to the woman they could find an artist that did landscapes or abstract art or, hell, Cuddy would even stoop to conceptual art if it kept Anne's money flowing in.

Anne snapped her fingers. "She could do portraits of the staff!"

"Naked?!"

Half the restaurant turned around at Cuddy's blurted statement and she smiled and nodded to a few people, waiting for them to go back to their risottos before turning back to Anne.

"I can't coerce my staff into posing in the nude, do you know how many violations I'd be perpetrating just by brining it up?"

Anne shrugged on a clueless smile. Ignorance truly was bliss and this woman was ecstatic. "I'll do it then, I'm sure I convince them of a worthy cause. That charming Dr Wilson should be more than willing. It is, after all, his department that will benefit the most."

Thank the Lord, a loophole.

"You do realise that it would have to be completely voluntary, I _cannot_ be seen to encourage this. Some of the hospital's other patrons are…not as liberal as you are."

Anne waved a dismissive hand. "Certainly, dear, but you can lead by example."

"Uh…what?"

"Well, she's your sister, I'm sure you wouldn't be embarrassed about posing for her. In fact, one of the paintings I saw on Saturday had an uncanny likeness to you."

The flaming of Cuddy's cheeks was all the reply Anne needed. Sure, you couldn't see her face in that painting but anyone who knew she had that heart-shaped birthmark on her hip would know that it was her…

"Okay, Anne, let's make a deal, if you can convince all the department heads to join in with this then I will call my sister and ask her to do it _if_ her schedule allows." Cuddy said, never in a million years believing that Anne could be as persuasive as she was. Besides, who could convince House to strip off for an artist, there was no way it would happen.

"All the department heads?" Anne asked, clearly thinking along the same lines as Cuddy was. She had met the irascible Dr House on one occasion and had found him to be in possession of a certainly unique charm.

Cuddy nodded and sipped her water. She had outmanoeuvred Anne and the old bird knew it.

"Alright, Lisa, make it a deal and I'll hold you to it." She extended her pale hand across the table and Cuddy took it in her own with a broad grin.

"I live for that day, Anne."

Truth be told, Anne's answering smile had certainly been disturbing.

**$inister $cribe**

_FWAP!_

Cuddy's brows rose as a sheaf of papers slapped down onto her desk in front of her nose. She looked up, her pen poised over the form she was about to sign, and met the cool green eyes of Anne Lochan. She blinked.

"Mrs Lochan, I didn't know we had a meeting today." Cuddy said uncertainly and prodded at the papers on her desk.

"Anne, and we didn't but you didn't look too horrendously busy so I'd thought I'd drop by." Anne smiled at her and folded her lean frame into the chair opposite Cuddy. The dean tidied her desk as quickly as she could and then picked up the papers, flipping through them idly.

"What are these?"

"Volunteer declarations."

Cuddy blinked. "Say again?"

"You said if I got every department head to agree to posing for your sister then you'd call her. That's it in writing."

Oh fuck.

Cuddy dropped her head and flipped through the papers. Surely she hadn't managed to convince…the signature of Gregory House was scrawled across the bottom of the last page and a chill went through Cuddy. She was going to kill him. Wilson too, she was going to maim them both.

"How did you…?"

"Well, it was actually very easy, I just told them that you would be very grateful for their cooperation and that if the auction did particularly well then it might attract more money to the hospital and by association…their departments." Anne smiled brightly. So she had lied. Basically. Cuddy held up the last paper.

"I'd love to hear how you convinced Dr House." So she could scream at him about it later.

Anne's smile faded slightly. "The agreement for Dr House's participation was slightly…different."

"He wants off clinic for life?" Cuddy asked drolly. God what had this woman bartered House for and how much was it going to cost Cuddy.

"Oddly enough that never came up but his participation was hinging on the fact that I didn't tell you what he wanted other than that it was nothing that would…, how did he put it? 'Harm your precious baby'." Anne smiled again at that and Cuddy resisted the urge to pick up her chair and beat the other woman over the head with it.

"Really?"

"So, I believe that holds up my end of the deal, Lisa. I expect you to call me by the end of the week to let me know when your sister can start. I do hope you keep your word, after all, I don't think I could trust someone with Marty's money if they didn't keep their word." Anne lamented with a glint in her eye and Cuddy realised in that moment that she had grossly underestimated this old bird of a woman. Cuddy pasted a smile on her face and scowled as soon as Anne turned her back to leave the office.

She set her jaw and sat back in her chair. Outmanoeuvred, out thought and out of options. She stared at the phone on her desk with a deepening scowl. Perhaps Darsha was busy this week…she was often busy flying off to Europe or god knew where. Celebrities had begun to notice her work and it was becoming the vogue to have a portrait done by Darsha Cuddy in their Miami penthouses. Maybe she was off painting George Clooney or something…maybe Cuddy could go with her if she was.

Cuddy sighed and picked up the phone. She needed this money and Anne was right, it would bring in a lot of funds and open up the hunting ground for some more donors. She began to dial and prayed that Darsha wasn't there.

Her heart sank when a cheerful voice answered on the third ring.


	2. Chapter 2

**okay, this is the next chappie and you'll note their still quite short. Trying an experiment of doing shorter chappies and updating more often. **

**Kewl?**

**Good.**

**Um...feather boa is for Scarlett Scribble and...the rest is just because i can. i don't know if i like this chapter or not, but lemme know what you think bubs!!**

**Read and Review me because i need the gratification. **

**An Embarrassing Situation For All**

"Explain to me why we're here, you have an appointment with Bon Jovi in half an hour and this is in the wrong direction for his penthouse!" Mimi snapped. She didn't like this, Darsha had always been a free spirit, it was part of her creative nature, but Mimi was employed to do a little grounding.

Like now.

"Blew Bon Jovi off, his people were very understanding."

"How did you…? You don't even have the number for his people!" Mimi gaped.

"Ah, but your PDA does." Darsha raised one finger and pointed at the blue sky overhead, whizzing past over the open roof of Darsha's red low slung convertible.

"You don't know how to work a PDA. You don't even know how to work an escalator." Mimi stated flatly and Darsha grinned.

"Do too! You step on, you step off and I know I don't know how to work a PDA but Evan does."

"I'm going to kill Evan! Do you have any idea how much publicity Jovi was worth?"

Darsha shrugged nonchalantly. "I've got plenty of publicity and you're _always_ going to kill Evan he just figured he might as well deserve it this time."

Mimi groaned, for once her cultured New England façade slipping and a real tone of frustration seeping through her finishing school training. "Dee! You don't get to keep the publicity if you blow off the celebrities!"

"You do if you're rude about it and they happen to phone Vogue about it." Darsha winked at her PA/best friend. Mimi groaned. This. Was. Not. Happening. She had _grovelled_ to see Bon Jovi. For _months_. And Darsha had destroyed that in a single phone call. But she wouldn't have done it without good reason. Darsha could be completely socially unaware at times but she was never intentionally cruel. Insensitive, yes. Cruel, no. Darsha's stormy grey eyes were…alight with excitement behind the broad expanse of her Gucci sunglasses. Her long black/brown hair had been tied haphazardly back into a knot at her nape secured with a paintbrush and her upswept features were lifted by her sunny grin.

"Alright, what's so important that you risk the wrath of your saintly PA to blow off Bon Jovi's sitting?"

"I'm going to see my sister."

Mimi frowned. "Babs?"

"Nope."

"Maddy?"

"Nope."

"Honey, you're out of sisters, you only have two."

A long sigh. "Nope."

Mimi blinked. "What? How can you have another sister? Where have you been hiding her?"

"I didn't hide her." Darsha said slowly, a hint of something heavy in her voice. Odd against the usual tone of air and laughter. "She hid herself." Darsha shrugged and then brightened. Sweeping the lead in her voice away. "But I've always known where she is." She smirked. Her affection evident.

"Okay…where is she?"

"Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. She's got a job for me."

Mimi frowned. "What kind of job does a doctor have for an artist, you planning on illustrating some medical books?"

Darsha shot her a look. "No…I'm doing a series of portraits of her staff for a big charity auction. To raise money for the new cancer wing in her hospital. So I do it for free but I get good karma and good PR for being a charity artist."

Mimi nodded slowly her PA senses tingling. This could work out. This could be better than Bon Jovi.

"Who's paying for materials and your time?"

Darsha shrugged again. "Some rich broad."

Mimi sighed. Well, it was her job to know all the details, not Darsha. The car screeched to a halt. Darsha turned to her and grinned. "How do I look?"

Mimi glanced down over her friend's attire. Red do-me heels, black pinstripe shorts and a over sized red tee shirt with a picture of a strawberry on it, cream drippled over the fruit and splattered down to say 'Strawberries make me cream'. She had tied it at her hip to tighten the fabric across her chest and show a tanned inch of midriff. Mimi tilted her head and smiled. "You look like you."

Darsha grinned. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around." She bounded out of the car and hustled around the back to throw open the trunk. Throwing open the door she hauled out a box of various…well, it looked like junk, and a digital backed SLR camera. She fidgeted with the Cannon make for a moment and then tossed it on top of the junk in the box. Hefting both easily she clicked her way around to meet Mimi and then preceded her into the hospital.

Mimi looked up at the huge building, a mixture of modern lines and vintage architecture and planted her sunglasses high on her head. She huffed out a breath.

"I hope this hospital knows what it's getting into." She murmured and then followed after her friend.

**$inister $cribe**

"What do you mean I can't have the nerve biopsy?!" House demanded sharply with a wild gesture from his arm just for good measure. Cuddy didn't back down, she rarely did when they were yelling at each other. Not unless he used the Guilt against her and even then, it wasn't always guaranteed if she was mad enough.

"The opposite of me allowing it!" She snapped back. "You risk giving him paralysis."

"I need the biopsy!"

"No you don't, House. You want it. Remember we had this little talk about how you couldn't always get what you wanted?" Her voice took on that specially patronising tone that she _knew_ rubbed him the wrong way and she stabbed her finger against his chest for emphasis. "You have no medical reasoning for doing the nerve biopsy, you're just grasping at straws."

"Actually I'm grasping at nerves but some idiot playing at doctor is getting in my way!"

"Well, that's not very nice."

They both spun at the third voice in the room interrupting the flow of their argument House blinked. Darsha sauntered into the room, tossed the box she was carrying onto the nearest flat surface and whipped off her glasses with a wide smile.

"Darsha!" Cuddy wasted no time and pulled her younger sister into her arms for a hug that was tight enough to crack ribs.

"It's The Extreme!" Darsha laughed and hugged her sister back. "So, how's things in hospital land? Still sick people? Good, good…well, not for them, obviously." Darsha grinned and looked around her sister's office, her eyes finally landed on the slightly dumbfounded House. "And who is this fine specimen? Do I get to take is clothes off?" She grinned at Lisa and then faltered slightly at the glare that was being directed her way. "Oh, so it's like that is it?" She bobbed her eyebrows at Lisa and then nudged House with her hip. "Knew you had an in there, didn't ya buddy? It's the cane she's always had a thing for phallic symbols."

Lisa slapped her sister on the arm and then looked over to see House staring with a slight frown at Darsha's chest. She slapped him too.

"Stop perving on my sister!"

He rubbed his shoulder. "I was not perving, I was reading…strawberries?" He looked at Darsha. "So it's like that?"

Darsha grinned and looked him up and down. "Depends on what kind of mood I'm in, darling."

Mimi trailed quietly into the office and did that thing where she looked as unassuming as possible and pretended to be furniture.

"Oh, this is Mimi, she's my PA, best friend, right arm, whatever you want. If you want something sorted for me she'll do it, pick out my dress and get me there on time." Mimi shook hands and Darsha sidled a little closer to House, she stood a full head shorter than him but she was looking up at him like she wanted to take a bite out of him…it was kind of disturbing, like seeing his Cuddy but…not inhibited. Darsha stepped in front of him and planted her hands on his chest, smoothing them down his chest and belly. She pursed her lips and turned to Lisa.

"Oh, I like this one."

Cuddy pressed her lips together and tried not to smirk. House looked like he didn't know whether to be offended at being felt up like a piece of meat on the market or to enjoy it.

"He's bad for you." Lisa said in her best older-sister-knows-best voice.

Darsha tilted her head, toying idly with House's belt buckle. He looked like he wanted to move away but wasn't quite sure if she'd let him go. "Will I be seeing more of him later?"

Cuddy smirked this time and nodded. "Yes, Dr House is head of diagnostics and he will be posing for you…whenever and however you want him to."

Darsha turned back with an eeevil Cuddy grin.

"You first, Cuddles." House smirked and Darsha threw back her head and laughed.

"Cuddles, you allow that? The Extreme allows that?" Darsha tongued one of her eye teeth on a smile and raised one eyebrow to her sister.

House frowned. "The Extreme?"

Darsha slapped him lightly on the chest and then said to him as if confidentially. "Honey, the stories I could tell you…"

"Moving on!" Cuddy said brightly. "Don't you have a patient to be seeing to?"

House frowned at her. Now much more interested in the sister than any patient. "Don't you have clothes to be taking off?"

"Not while you're here." She gritted.

"Now, Cuddy, let's not fight in front of the baby of the family. You let me sit in on the posing and I'll keep the patient alive for the rest of the day." House grinned and Cuddy narrowed her eyes.

"Big of you."

"That's what all the ladies say."

"Not what I heard, there were rumours of socks. Now go and do an MRI instead of the nerve biopsy."

"I don't need an MRI I _need…" _

A light flashed and a shutter clicked, putting House off his stride. He turned to glare at the offending photographer and saw Darsha standing with her camera in her hands. She pushed a button and laughed when the screen on the back showed her the picture she'd just taken.

"Hey look, Mimi, verbal copulation! It's nice to know that in this day and age some people are still sexually repressed." Darsha rummaged in her box and whipped out a long bright red feather boa. She strode to House and draped it around his neck. She paused for a moment, ignoring the gathering storm in the large doctor's eyes and then flipped one end over his shoulder. She lifted her camera and snapped another photo. House's glare was thunderous.

Cuddy coughed suspiciously behind one hand and then wiped the smirk from her face when he turned to look accusingly at her.

"Is she too old to kill off?"

Cuddy nodded. "My mother is quite attached to her, yes."

"Aw, don't be like that Housey-wousey." Darsha grabbed House's cheek and pinched it. "If you really feel that badly about it then the Extreme will give you a huggle."

"The hell she will." Cuddy folded her arms over her chest. She was really beginning to enjoy herself.

"But it would make a good picture, here look!" Darsha grabbed her sister by the wrist and hauled her against House. "You do this…and you hold that and…put your foot…like this. Perfect."

"Okay, liking the sister now." House grinned down at Cuddy.

"This is not funny and don't drop me." Cuddy answered back on a glare. She had forgotten this little habit that Darsha had of arranging people's clothing and limbs like she was about to paint them…because she usually was. Darsha wasn't interested in professional models (stick figures with poofy lips and no personality) she wanted real people. In real situations…Cuddy wasn't sure that this qualified.

She stood on one leg, her other wrapped around House's, his hand at the small of her back prevented her from falling to the floor, that and the way Darsha had wrapped the feather boa around Cuddy's hands and kept it looped around House's neck like a set of reins…if only he was that easy to control.

"Why would I drop you when it's so much more fun to hold on?" His hand wondered from her back and lower.

"Keep moving and lose it, House." She warned him. The camera flashed and they both ignored it.

"I'll note you haven't moved away."

"Uh-huh, you try breaking a pose that she's put you in. Artistic temperament doesn't even begin to cover it."

"Coward."

"Lech."

He smirked at her and she grinned back. She couldn't help it. Why had she been so worried about Darsha coming into the hospital again?

Wilson opened the door and strode inside. He looked up from his chart and nearly swallowed his tongue upon seeing how the dean and her favourite diagnostician were wrapped around each other…with a feather boa.

"Um…sorry." He blurted and Darsha poked her head around her two models, becoming visible for the first time to Wilson.

"Do you mind? Some of us have a porn directing career to start off, you know!" She yelled at him, though not without a grin and Cuddy grimaced shutting her eyes in horror when half the lobby turned around at Darsha's comment and looked into Cuddy's office to see what was going on. And there was definitely plenty to see.

Ah, yes, that was why she hadn't wanted Darsha to come.


	3. Chapter 3

That All Important First Impression

**Uuuummm...aye. **

**I finally decided that i can't even stand Cameron enough to try and change her character and make her a main fixture in my fiction, plus i need to keep moving with the times and all my fics are season 3 and before so here we are with my first EVAR season four-centred fic!!**

**imagine trumpets blaring here**

**Naaoow...aye, plus, i didn't think i could write a smut scene between two women when one of the women has the same name as my mother. I'll take a pass on THAT hideous mental scarring thankee very muckles. **

**Soo...have a read, lemme know what u think of the new Darsha/Thirteen interaction (and yes, her name really is Rena, i did check). The story will carry on as originally planned but without the original ducklings. The new...um, cignettes instead. **

**Hopefully more to come soon!**

**That All Important First Impression**

By the time Darsha reached Diagnostics that afternoon, she was exhausted. She had never spent such a full day of interviewing models. Since being hustled out of her sister's office, and letting Mimi get in contact with the old bird that was paying for this whole shenanigan, Darsha had been interviewing one doctor after another. This was how she worked, painting how someone looked was easy but if she was going to paint _who_ they were, she was going to have to at least know their middle name. This was by far the biggest project she had ever attempted but she was looking forward to it with a fervour that she hadn't felt since her first days in Art School. She looked at the last four names on her timetable, consulted the hand drawn map that Brenda the nurse had supplied her with and then looked up at the glass door in front of her.

"Well, this has to be it." She murmured to herself and shoved open the door, sauntering inside and casting her eyes over the empty room. "Hmm, I'm a few models short…" Oh well, no loss, they were bound to turn up eventually and she was dying for a cup of coffee anyway. Darsha eyed the percolating machine with a gleam in her grey gaze. Mimi had practically forbidden her from partaking in her one vice (aside from chocolate and shoes) as the black liquid of the gods was apparently bad for her. Darsha looked about herself furtively and then snagged a red mug, pouring a steaming black cup of tar masquerading as coffee…man, this was going to be _good. _She sipped and moaned in rapture at the rich slightly bitter taste. She felt the heat of it pouring down through her chest and smiled softly to herself.

She flipped the radio sat on the cluttered shelf to 'on' and then plopped down on one of the metal framed chairs arranged haphazardly around the glass table. Something Queen and sultry pulsed out of the noise box and Darsha bobbed to the beat as she flipped idly through a few medical books and various papers sprawled over the clean cut lines of the office. She picked up a file and smoothed her fingers over the delicate curling handwriting filling in the form. A woman's definitely, must be…Thirteen's. Darsha tossed the file aside and then rose to her feet, toting her coffee with her and going to explore the lion's den, as it were. She had been listening to the rumour mill all day and had ascertained that Dr House was one of the, if not _the_, thing to talk about in the hospital. His escapades were the stuff of legends and only outstripped by his callus and uncaring manner.

Darsha didn't buy that. She had barely spent three minutes in the man's presence earlier before her sister had shoved him out of the door. She had seen a laughing man, who had been hurt, was scarred, not quite recovered and had a sharp sense of humour. She sensed perhaps a wicked streak a mile wide running right through him, saw the same impatience with social graces that she shared with him but she had also seen the way he had looked down into Lisa's eyes. The heat there. Not just the light of lust, though there had been plenty of that (Darsha made a mental note to interrogate the Extreme about such things later) but there had also been something very much like affection there too. Probably too well disguised with sarcasm for most to notice, but Darsha was good with people, it was what made her good at her job.

She flipped idly through House's record collection and arched a brow at some of the rarer titles there. She sipped her coffee again and then moved to sit behind his desk, spinning around once in the chair (she couldn't resist) and then clunking her mug down on the cluttered desk.

Her thoughts returned to House. Both the legend and the man. It seemed to Darsha that Lisa had always talked of him, sometimes with admiration, sometimes with that foreshadowing of affection in her tone but mostly with poorly concealed rage. Darsha had been interrupted many a time to sit on the other end of the phone and listen to yet another rant about 'What the gimping bastard had gone and done this time'. She had looked forward to those late night conversations, despite the hell it played with her studio time. She had liked hearing that old fire in her sister's voice. Not many folks knew it, but every wild action, every aberrant behaviour pattern and lewd gesture; she had learned from her oldest sister.

She didn't call her 'the Extreme' for nothing.

"Can I do something for you?"

Darsha froze, her mug halfway to pouted lips and let her eyes widen a fraction at the exotic young thing standing in the doorway. She set her mug down with another clunk and looked around the corner of the desk to eye this newcomer from the tip of their toes all the way to the top of their dark auburn hair. Darsha arched a brow.

"Will you take requests?" The words were breathed out before Darsha could stop them.

Mee-_OW!_

The woman blinked, her pale, pale green eyes confused for a moment then her hand tightened on the door handle. "If you're not here for official hospital business then I'm going to have to ask you to lea…"

"Oh, now don't be like that, gorgeous." Darsha chided her lightly, rising from her seat and sauntering over to the woman. They would have been the same height had Darsha been out of her heels, or the woman had dared to wear a pair instead of (eek!) practical shoes. As it was, Darsha had a couple of inches on the charming slip of female in front of her. She stalked right over to her and then prowled around her, eyeing her up and down from all angles, even going so far as to shove the lab coat out of the way when it hindered her view of the fit of the doctor's suit. "Well, you are pretty, are you the one they call Thirteen?"

"That would be me. Who are you?" Her voice bordered on belligerent and Darsha was too busy worrying her full lower lip and taking in the fit of those oh-so-nicely tailored slacks to pay it much mind.

"Darsha Cuddy, I'll be your artist this week." The dark woman smirked at her and Thirteen narrowed her cat-shaped eyes and then felt them widen in recognition of the memory. She had heard something about the Dean's sister turning up, for this charity thing but she had expected a flaky art student version of Cuddy not…this predator eyeing her up and down like she was a free meal.

"Well, you shouldn't be here, it's Dr House's office and he's bad tempered enough as it is without…" Thirteen completely lost her train of thought when Cuddy the Second leant over and put her face to the pulse at Thirteen's throat. She inhaled deeply. Rocking back on her heels she smirked slightly.

"Almonds, nice. Without what?" She inquired cheerfully, clasping her hands behind her back and bouncing on the platform soles of her shoes.

Thirteen took a moment to figure out what the hell she had been asked. The resemblance between the two apparent sisters of Lisa and Darsha Cuddy became more apparent as time went on. They shared the same dark curling hair and pale cool eyes, but Cuddy's feature's were sharper than Darsha's and Darsha's smile was far more wicked. "Without some stranger prying in his office."

"Oh, we're not strangers, I met Greg this morning." Darsha waved a dismissive hand and then latched onto Thirteen's wrist, tugging her towards the desk and pushing her down into one of the chairs. She didn't miss the opportunity to slide her fingers over the soft skin of Thirteen's wrist. Swipe a pad of her thumb over the rapid pulse there, just because she could. She sashayed to the seat next to Thirteen instead of having the desk between them and when she folded one leg over the other, her bare toes touched Thirteen's pant leg. She smiled her most disarming smile.

Thirteen arched a brow, rolled her eyes a little and sighed. Clearly unimpressed and Darsha's smile became slightly fixed. The rejection, because Darsha recognised it for what it was, had her hackles up. Thirteen may have been one of the _wantiest_ women that Darsha had ever lain eyes on -striking features, cheekbones to die for, full mouth and that almond tilt to her eyes, not to mention all that gorgeous dark, dark red that was tied back in a messy tail, and those long, _long_ legs- but that didn't change the need for an attitude adjustment. Darsha decided then and there that she was going to be trouble for the good Doctor Thirteen.

"What's the matter? Don't you like charity workers?"

"You're nothing to do with charity." Thirteen told her, ice snapping in her voice. Darsha gave an exaggerated shiver. _Ooooh, that's cold!_ "House really let you call him Greg?"

Darsha shrugged. "Didn't have much choice in the matter. Do you like being called Thirteen? Reduced to a number, an unlucky one at that?"

"I don't put much faith in superstition." Thirteen settled back in her chair, realising she was in for the long haul.

"But you do put some faith in it? Liiike…if you don't _know_ you have Huntingtons, it'll never get you?" Darsha trailed her finger over her lower lip and tilted her chin down, watching Thirteen's reaction from under heavy hooded lashes. It was instantaneous. Thirteen's head snapped up, her pale eyes snapping green fire like a riled cat. Oh, _that_ was a nerve.

"Who told you?!"

"Glad to see I have your attention." Darsha murmured. "People do _not_ ignore me."

"Was it House?"

"House didn't say a word. Everybody else did though." Darsha settled back in her chair, elbows resting on the arm rests and her long bare legs folding up on the table top, the back of her thighs brushing against Thirteen's knees. She wanted to move away, Darsha could see it, but the dismissal in Thirteen's eyes had pissed her off and Darsha wanted to play. Even if it meant being annoying. "I used to write for the school newspaper, you learn how to read gossip pretty well in everyday conversation with a job like that…and I had a quick look through the intranet chat rooms. You would be _amazed_ what that nurse in gynaecology can do with his tongue." Darsha's smile wasn't cruel but it couldn't be described as friendly either.

"So, tell me," Darsha changed her tone to polite interest. There was more than one way to get an honest reaction. "What's it like? The weight of it, I mean? That heavy cloud hanging over you, waiting to deliver the downpour. Do you live every moment as if it were your last? Do you do things you shouldn't before you can't? or do you hide away behind that ice mask of yours and those pale cat eyes, hoarding your big bowl of secrets?"

Thirteen had paled immeasurably. "What do you want from me?" Her voice was hollow, shaking, she looked almost afraid.

Darsha dropped her feet to the floor, leaning forward until their faces were almost and inch apart. She reached up trailing a finger down over Thirteen's cheek as if tracing an invisible tear. "I want this." Her breath could be felt against Thirteen's mouth. "The real you, no masks, no covers, nothing to hide behind. Naked." Darsha smiled then and Thirteen found this one no more comforting than the last. "I want you naked, Rena. Get used to the idea."

Then she was up and moving away, striding for the door, long legs eating the distance, hips swinging. She stopped at the door and looked back at the dumbstruck doctor with a wicked glint in her eye.

"Oh, and Rena?"

"Hmm?" Was all Thirteen could manage. It felt so odd to be called her given name all of a sudden.

"I'll have you in my bed as well." Darsha slipped out of the door and clicked down the hallway, sounding the same as her sister in heels at any rate. She did not turn to see Thirteen staring after her, Lisa had taught her better than that.

She _did_ put a little more wiggle in her walk though.

**Sinister Scribe**

"But I wanna go home _now!" _Darsha actually stamped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring fiercely at her sister.

Cuddy huffed a breath and gave up trying to concentrate on the paperwork in front of her. "Don't take that tone with me." She warned her sibling sternly and Darsha pouted. "You know where it is and you have your own car. Do the math."

"I flunked math and Mimi has the car." She dropped onto the edge of the desk and then deliberately and fiercely prodded her sister in the shoulder with one sharp finger. "Let's go, you workaholic!"

Lisa scowled up at her. "Ow." She enunciated slowly.

Darsha rolled her eyes. "Oh please, like you could feel it through the shoulder pads of doom you've got going there." She prodded her again and received a stab from the pen Lisa held in retribution. "Abuse!" She lamented her finger. "That was mean."

"I'm not finished yet." Lisa gritted and Darsha huffed out a long suffering sigh. She scowled and contemplated kicking her sister but that had never really gotten her anywhere before. She managed to stay silent for all of thirty seconds.

"Are you finished now?" Lisa ignored her. Darsha smirked and tilted her head. A new game. "How about now?" Lisa continued to ignore her but Darsha could see the slight twitch in her sister's right hand that meant she wanted to use it to slap someone. Usually Darsha or House. Darsha pursed her lips, leant forward so that her mouth was next to her sister's ear and, after a sufficiently anxiety heightening pause said; "Now?"

"Alright!" Lisa snapped and threw her pen aside. "We can go!" She surged to her feet and started shoving things into files and growling under her breath about the joys of family or something similar. She headed for the door before Darsha could even scramble off the desk and left her baby sister to trot after her.

"Hey, Lisa! Wait, I forgot to tell you, we've got to make a stop on the way home!"

There were some disparaging comments made about the cut-off age for the orphanage but Darsha just laughed them off. Lisa was joking…

Right?


	4. Chapter 4

_**This is the first chapter written by both Scarlett and I. Scarlett wrote the second half and I kinda beta'd and hummed and hawed over the damn thing for a while. Basically I'm fed up with it and just thought I'd post it anyway. **_

_**Scarlett's ace at writing this, just so y'all know and if anybody wants to moan about it, kindly do not share your whiney cry baby opinion with the rest of the class.**_

_**This is a new thing for me, I dunno about Scarlett but tis definitely weird having somebody else writing my fic and then sending the chapters to me to post. **_

_**::shivers::**_

_**anyway, haven't updated the last couple of days because I loaned my muse out and he went on a bender or something and didn't come back. **_

_**Ah well, I think he's staggering his way home now. **_

_**Enjoy and review kids, remember to give ear rubs and chin scratches to Scarlett as well!! **_

**When All Else Fails; Invade**

House looked up from his piano playing with a frown at the hammering on the door. Must be the pizza guy, he remembered after a moment. He hauled himself up and out of his bench at the baby grand, snagged his cane and hobbled over to the door. He opened it without a pause and blinked at who he found on the other side.

"You missed my interview, you naughty thing!" House found himself on the receiving end of a dangerously pointed finger waggled in his face. Darsha slipped past him and into the apartment. "Mind if we come in? Wow, this place is…primitive."

House whipped around and followed her movement before turning to look back at Cuddy, who looked like she wanted the ground to open and swallow her up. She lifted her head and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. She insisted."

"I thought you were the older sister here?" He accused her and bent his arm so that she could duck under it and into the apartment. She sidled past him and straightened in time to see Darsha pull off a rather impressive flip to flop backwards over the couch and sink into the plush leather. She wriggled experimentally, her platforms still hooked over the back of the couch and grinned up at Lisa.

"Comfy." She informed her and Lisa glared, drawing her finger across her throat vehemently in the universal gesture for 'I am going to kill you slowly and enjoy it, god help me'. In reply, Darsha grinned.

"Why are you here? Not that I'm complaining at two zesty women in my apartment of a night but…why are you _here_?" House demanded.

"I need to interview you and you weren't at your office." Darsha explained. "And Cuddy knew your address off the top of her head so we came over." Darsha efficiently ignored the death glare that was sent her way and continued on blithely. "I would have called but I didn't know she knew your number by heart as well until we were, like, here." Darsha shrugged at these events that were beyond her control and Lisa rubbed at her temple and willed herself to just die of embarrassment.

"You know my number by heart?" House grinned at her and she heaved in a breath.

"Well, the lawyers do keep asking for it." She said in her defence and knew it was a weak one.

Darsha leant up onto her knees on the sofa so she was nearly at eyelevel with her sister. "Anyone ever tell you that you guys make a really cute couple?"

House laughed before he remembered he was supposed to be disgruntled at this home invasion. Lisa looked fit to kill. She spun and headed for the door.

"I'm going to wait in the car." She said with as much dignity as she could muster and threw open the door. Let House deal with her, Cuddy had been dealing with Darsha since she was old enough to be arrested…okay, so that was her fault that one time but still…she froze upon finding another person on the other side of the door.

"Cuddy! I mean…hi." Wilson recovered as quickly as he was able.

"Great, now it's a party." House gritted and limped back to his baby grand maybe if he played loud enough then he wouldn't be able to hear any of them.

"Wilson, I was just…" Cuddy was cut off by a strong arm wrapping through hers.

"Now don't pout, Cuddles, you'll get wrinkles. You're not going to go and huff in the car, you're going to sit with Wilson, have a beer and relax while I interroga…_interview_ House. Then he's going to play us a song." Darsha told them all sweetly.

"I'm not?" Cuddy said.

"I am?" House demanded from the other side of the room.

"How'd you know I brought beer?" Wilson asked finally as he was tugged into the apartment.

"Because I paged you and asked you to." Darsha informed him cheerfully, snagged a pad from her bag and then sashayed over to the baby grand, where House was trying very hard to look invisible, and sat on the edge of it. She flipped to a fresh page and clicked her mechanical pencil until she had sufficient lead.

"I thought it was House…" Wilson looked helplessly at Cuddy and she just shrugged and moved to the couch to sit. This was going to be a long night so she might as well be comfortable for it.

"So, why do you play piano?" Darsha asked first and scribbled on her pad. House plonked a few notes on the keys and did his best to ignore the imp sitting on his piano. A red sandal wrapped foot prodded him in the shoulder. "I'm talking and if you want me to come through on our deal, then you'll cooperate." She said with a slight edge to her voice. She was usually quite placid but being purposefully ignored just grated on her.

"What are the exact details of that, by the way?" Cuddy asked from across the room.

"None of your business." House and Darsha said at exactly the same time and then shared a look. House turned back to Cuddy and eyed her with interest. She had kicked off her shoes and had crossed her legs at the ankles to prop them on the coffee table. She had removed her suit jacket and sat with her shirt on, nudging shoulders with Wilson who sat next to her and handed her a beer. Cuddy bent and smacked the bottle off the edge of his coffee table expertly. The top popped off and she drank deeply before resting back against the couch and returning Wilson's stunned look at her beer bottle dexterity with an amused arched brow.

They looked good together.

House's fingers stabbed at the keys with a little more force than was necessary and he turned back to pay more attention to his music.

"Jealousy is a terrible emotion you know."

House looked up to find Darsha sat cross legged on his baby grand and her hand propped under her chin. He tried to look bored.

"Who's jealous?"

She smiled. "Oh, lie to anyone you want Gregoreo, but don't bother with me. I know that you want her as much as she wants you."

"Don't call me that, and what are you talking about?"

"Oh please, the truck full of chemistry between y'all? I thought my film was going to melt when I was shooting you two. What really gets me, though, is the fact that you both deny it."

"I've never denied it."

"But you've never gone after her. Really I mean."

'I don't desire a black eye.' House's fingers danced over the keys and he forced a callus shrug.

'I don't think you'd get one, judging on her behaviour I'd say you'd get something a lot more…pleasurable.' Darsha's eyes were slightly narrowed as she watched him. Looking for a tell, waiting for that glimmer of truth through all the bullshit that people cloaked themselves in.

His eyes flicked up to hers, uncomfortable with the conversation. 'Haven't you got some questions you need to ask?" He tapped his watch and smirked at her. "Time is ticking and I'm coming closer to throwing you out."

She smiled, like she knew some secret he didn't. 'You're exactly what she said you'd be.'

His cold exterior slipped slightly. 'She talks about me?'

"Of course…" She had his interest, now for the hook. "But no time for that, questions remember.' She winked at him, satisfaction written all over her face.

He frowned, having his own line throw back at him and being refused information he wanted to know. What had she been saying about him?

He looked over at her, quickly turning away again, ignoring the stab of jealously that hit him once more, her laughter invading his mind as she giggled at something Wilson had said.

Darsha crossed her legs, her red sandal dangling from her heel, 'right, interests?'

'What?' he snapped out of it, leaning back from her legs, now swinging a little to close for comfort.

'What are you interested in?' She grinned aiming for innocent and missing by miles. "Aside from my sister that is."

'As a photographer you aren't very observant.'

Her eyebrows rose, a twisted smirk remaining on her face, everything he said rolling off her. 'In what way?'

'My interest…your bony ass is currently ruining the polish on it.'

She gasped, mocking him, hand coming to the side of her face as she looked down, 'Really?? And there was me thinking it was just for decoration.' She rolled her eyes. 'I meant interests other than the obvious. I assumed you'd pick up on that, with your intelligence and all, my mistake.'

Parry and thrust. She was very nearly as good as her older sister.

She was still grinning, leaning back on one hand, the other holding her pen poised to take notes. Her humour was contagious, the sarcasm rolling off her in waves. So direct and brazen, not holding anything back, outspoken to the end. How could she be so different to Cuddy? All element of professionalism not present, preferring to wind him up while attempting to get him to be co-operative, while throwing in little innuendos in for the fun of it.

This mini Cuddy was intriguing, what had made her the way she was and why was she nothing like her sister…or was she?

House leant back, pretending to contemplate the question, eyes subtly drifting over to Cuddy eyeing her up. He was going to have to do some investigating, find a little bit more out about his boss' background. He'd known her for many years…but he didn't really 'know' her…and over the next few weeks with Darsha here he intended to extract a lot more information on Little Miss Professional sat only meters away from him.

A slow smile spread over his lips and he decided the best way to get something from Darsha was to give something.

For now.


	5. Chapter 5

Not Hershey

**Okies, this is a reward for the faithful. **

**For everybody who's been putting up with my bitching moods and temper tantrums and whingings of late, here's some unadulterated Huddy. I wanted to write something funny and back to basics (for me at least). **

**I watched a 'Don't Stop Me Now' Huddy video on youtube and it reminded me that season four was actually a really great season and a high point in the series. I think I'm gonna get to watch the second and third episodes this weekend (hopefully) before I start my new job (yeah ANOTHER one) and I'll postpone final judgement until all the evidence is in. **

**This story has been revisited and chapter three rewritten so it's season four compatible (because Cameron makes me gag, I found myself agreeing with her in 5x01 and thought the world was gonna end) so have a rerear of chapter three in order to make proper sense of everything. **

**The first modellings come next, who do you want up first? **

**Come on, don't be shy, fanfiction means I can strip anybody I want, I'm also considering doing a set of drawings to match the final paintings, what u think?**

**Review me!!**

**Moments Break Like Mornings**

Cuddy was drunk.

Completely and irrevocably _shwasted. _She had somehow missed the couch the last time she had tried to sit on it and was now half under the coffee table, last beer in her hand and trying to remember how to open it. It probably wouldn't have been so bad, she mused slowly, if she hadn't partaken of some of the Scotch floating around as well. However, Darsha could be insistent when she wanted people to 'enjoy themselves', which resulted in Cuddy's immediate inebriation and frequent regret nine times out of ten. Cuddy painstakingly reached over the top of the slickly polished coffee table, inhaling the scent of toffee popcorn and beeswax polish before snagging one finger on the bottle opener. She dragged it across the surface of the table in a winding, meandering path and finally fumbled it onto the bottle top.

"Going to share?" Wilson slid down onto the floor as well with a graceless thump and Cuddy began to giggle at him.

"You're so drunk." She told him with a slight slur and the bottle hissed when she finally got her hand to work again and open it.

"Sho…So are you." He smirked at her and went to grab the bottle from her hand. Cuddy squeaked and scooted away across the slippery hardwood flooring and thumped her elbow against the lamp table at the side of the couch. With a small 'ow', half the bottle's contents were upended over her shirt and she gasped at the cold liquid.

"Whoopsie. Need some napkins…" Wilson, ever the gentleman, looked around for something suitable to mop up his boss with.

"Nah," Cuddy plucked at her stained shirt, uncaring for the ruined expensive material. She would change her tune in the morning but would probably be too drunk hungover to make too much noise about it. "You can just suck it off." She pulled the shirt away from her skin and offered it to Wilson, a button slipped free and Wilson, in his drink enhanced bravery, wasn't above checking out the lingerie underneath.

"La Perla, nice."

"Why thank you!" Cuddy smiled sunnily.

"Okay, kids, that's quite enough of the special juice for you two." Darsha's sober slim arms slid under Cuddy's and hauled her big sister to her feet. Cuddy whooped at the sudden change in altitude and her head spun with suddenly being more vertical than she was used to.

"But I'm not finished!" Cuddy grumbled and staggered once before Darsha foisted her into House's rather surprised arms. He had been catching some of the drunken debauchery on his cell phone and had been considering youtube-ing it for posterity. Having two arms full of drunk Dean of Medicine put his directing dreams on hiatus though. Cuddy weaved a little in his hold and looked up at him, blinking languidly with drink glazed eyes. Cuddy _looked_ drunk. Some people could be completely sloshed and look fairly in control of their faculties, Cuddy definitely looked hammered. "Hi, Greg!" She patted his chest with her free hand. "When did you get here?"

"I live here." House looked over the top of Cuddy's head to Darsha, who was busy hauling Wilson up off the floor and sliding under his arm. Darsha rolled her eyes and muttered something about getting out of the habit and reverting back to noob status before grunting and hauling Wilson up the last few inches to full standing and nearly falling back down under his weight.

"Really?" Cuddy sipped from her beer again and glanced about the apartment. "Huh, thought I'd been here before. Last time though _yoooouuuu_," she punched a finger into his chest and seemed to focus on the wall of muscle for a moment. "Slammed the door in my face. Now, THAT wasn't very nice, wazzit?"

"Positively uncouth." House smiled at her and, despite the glee he felt at having a very drunk, very uninhibited Cuddy literally in his hands, had very little idea of what to do with her. Well, he could think of several things, but none of them involved an audience of a kid sister and drink best friend.

"Huh, I remember you being REALLY uncouth." Cuddy hiccupped once and swayed a little more violently, House hustled her over to the nearest seat, the piano bench, and piled her onto it. She slumped over the keys with a thundering sound and jumped back in wide eyed alarm at the surprise. Then she remembered House was there for her invective though and the prodding finger was now at perfect navel height. She stabbed him with it ruthlessly. "Ah yes, I was but an innocent little freshman." Cuddy began and was cut off by Darsha's snort.

"Puh-lease, sis. You've never been innocent a day in your life!"

"Have SO!" Cuddy protested flinging her arm wide and nearly getting beer all over House too.

"Need I remind you of the incident of shtupping the reverend on the hood of his Caddy?" Darsha wobbled under Wilson's weight and managed to regain her footing at the last second.

"You know," Wilson, who had been eyeing Darsha for the last several seconds with a curious intent, spoke slowly and with care. "If you're sister wasn't so damn scary, I'd _totally_ do you."

Darsha looked up at him, the only truly sober one in the room and arched a brow. "Good to know." She turned back when Cuddy realised she'd been insulted.

"We were both consulting adults!" Cuddy leapt to her own defence.

"Consenting and only by mere MINUTES!" Darsha held her finger and thumb an inch apart to illustrate.

"Seriously, on the hood of his Caddy?" House was staring at Cuddy like Christmas had just come early. He'd forgotten how talkative (and competitive) she got when she was drunk.

"The gear shift was in the way inside." Cuddy blinked at him as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. He remembered she also got VERY sexed up when she was drunk to when her aqua eyes became half lidded, trailed down over his chest and blatantly eyed up his own 'gear stick'. A smile quirked her lips and her eyebrow arched. She reached out towards him and House backed away, last thing he needed was to pretend to want to fend her off in front of her sister.

"No, no, no, door's _this_ way." Darsha was oblivious to the conversation going on by the piano as she tried to steer Wilson towards the door. House went to help and, if necessary, clear a space on the floor for Wilson to crash.

"Oh, okay, you taking me home?" Wilson turned when Darsha finished wrapping him in his coat and pinned her to the door with his body. She squeaked, more out of surprise than actual alarm and her eyes widened when she felt a _lot _of Jewish doctor grinding against her belly with a subtle roll of his hips. "Cause, I can make it a nice ride."

"Down boy!" House grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him off. It was slightly alien to be the sensible one in this odd little quartet they had formed. "You don't have to. You can let him crash here." He pointed out.

"No, it's fine. Nothing worse than waking up hungover in someone else's pad, believe me, I know." Darsha slid under Wilson's arm again as House opened the door for them both to stagger out. Wilson was leaning down, speaking low and wicked into Darsha's ear. Judging by the flush that was crawling up her throat, House mused that she couldn't be as strawberry minded as he had originally thought. "I'll be back in a bit for the other drunken bum." Darsha called over her shoulder and jangled the car keys in her hand. House shut the door behind her and turned back to jerk in surprise when Cuddy was _right_ behind him. Beer abandoned on the piano top (he'd have to talk to her about that) and a secret wicked smile on her lips. She leaned forward, palms outstretched and caught herself on both of them on the door on either side of his head, leaning up over him, breasts brushing his chest, tongue sweeping slowly over her lips.

"Cuddy, you're really drunk." He told her, a little thrown, nervousness low in his gut, twisting tart and sour. He swallowed past it, trying not to focus too much on her mouth, god-DAMN she was one fine woman. There was nothing he'd like more than to pin her down on the floor and have his wicked way but she was drunk, her sister was due back in an hour at the most and he didn't know if the screeching in the morning was worth it.

Who was he kidding? Almost anything was worth leaving a little cream on that wicked Cuddy smile she had going on at the moment. He blew out a breath and tried to muster himself back under control. She wasn't for having it though.

"Play with me."

"Whut?!" House glanced down at her, the berjillion ways he'd _like_ to play with her standing up and can-canning past his frontal lobe in a chorus line of suggestions, all of them sweet and messy and so damn satisfying. For both of them.

"Come on, play with me." She smiled at him and he suddenly had the suspicion that she wasn't _nearly _as hammered as she was making out, and dragged him towards the piano. "It's been years, but I think we can manage it." Her tone was low and wicked.

_Definitely_ not as green as she was cabbage, he was thinking.

He grunted and allowed himself to be wobbly herded back to the piano bench. He sat down and rested his fingers automatically on the keys, one of the few friends that never judged him, and she perched next to him. No, that wasn't right, she perched when she was sober, occasionally even sat normally, but always prepared to shoot off in another tangent of whirling activity that was required for being the top dog. When she was drunk though, and she was pleasantly sloshed if nothing else, she lounged languid and sleepy eyed. She was pressed up to him from thigh to shoulder and had a small smile quirking her lips to let him know that she knew it made him sweat.

She cleared her throat with great importance and lifted one finger before stabbing it down on a key with a sharp thrumming sound through the room. A little 'heh' of satisfaction then her index finger from her other hand joined the first with a second note in harmony to the first.

House was completely nonplussed.

Cuddy did it again, first one finger and then the other. House sighed and reached up to let his own much more practiced fingers dance over the keys. She slapped his hands away.

"Don't! I'm trying to remember. It's been years since I've done this." She was slurring slightly but he drew his hands back and resisted the urge to huff.

"You can't even play."

"Now you sound like my mother, the vaunted musician." Cuddy rolled her eyes and her fingers danced over the notes with mocking symphony to her words. "Of course I can't play. Not artistically like you can, but I can do a damn good impersonation." She threw herself into a ribald tune that had House's brows rising in surprise, not only at its complexity but with the flare that she carried it off, reaching through his arm and twinkling her fingers right down to the highest notes and then back down to the lowest chords.

He was silent a moment and then looked at her.

"I didn't know you could do that."

She lifted what was rest of her beer and downed it before he could get her to think better of it. She shrugged and tilted her head. "There are entire ROOMS filled with what you don't know about me, Greg. Stuff you'll never know and I'll never tell."

"Oh, really?" He smirked at her. "I'm pretty sure I can worm it out of you." He leered at her playfully and she stopped playing long enough to turn to him and give a gratuitous leer in return.

"You'd have to worm _in_ to me first." Her smile was wicked and he spluttered on the scotch he was drinking as it slid down the wrong way and burned his windpipe. She giggled to herself. He wasn't drunk, not nearly as much as she was anyway, but the pleasant buzz in his head and the dulling effect it was having on his thigh was a pleasant incentive to let whatever it was that was brewing between them to mature to fruition. He leaned over to her and firmly goosed her in the sides until she shrieked and toppled backwards off the bench, her grip on his shoulders had him tumbling down after her until they crashed to the floor, him stretched out on top of her.

"Believe me, Cuddles, nothing _wormy_ about me." He breathed against her mouth and she smirked, hand drifting over the front of his tee shirt sliding down over his belt buckle and lower.

"I remember." House hissed through his teeth and arched his hips to her bold caress. Damn, the woman was good with her hands.

"You regretted it afterwards then too." He pointed out. He was a little tired of people hating him, Cuddy in particular, not that he didn't deserve it, but he kind of liked this pseudo neutral ground they had going on at the moment. She was letting him do his thing and he wasn't being TOO much of an ass. It seemed like a really bad idea to be rocking the cart right now. Especially when that tempting will-she-won't-she attitude she had to him seemed to be sliding firmly towards the 'she will' end of the spectrum.

"No…I regretted that you…saw me as a notch on your bed post." She reached up and toyed with his hair and then with his ears. He was well aware that she had a thing for his ears, he had a thing for her having a thing. His ears were very sensitive. He opened his mouth to tell her that she'd been the one to freeze him out but her nails scraped over the back of his neck and her other hand was working on the snap of his jeans. Somewhere between the two sensations he completely forgot. "But I didn't regret the night, or what I found out you could do to me." A slow smile twitched her lips and he was suddenly reminded very strongly of 'Part-pants' from college. She'd jumped him too. "Something tells me," her hand slid inside his pants and stroked around his cock, he gasped and arched, completely in her control and, for once, not giving a damn about it. "That you're feeling up to round two."

He looked at her, torn.

"Regrets are for tomorrow, Greg. Love me now." It wasn't a plea but rather a breathy command. One he was helpless to resist.

"Hell, yes." He gasped on a rush, his mouth crushing down on hers. She met him more than halfway.

**Sinister Scribe**

"Okay, here we are at Casa Wilson." Darsha painstakingly steered Wilson through the door of his apartment and wobbled him inside. "Bedroom?"

"Not wasting any time, are you?" Wilson snickered to himself and Darsha fought the very strong urge to drop him on the floor and leave right now.

"For you to sleep, you idiot. I doubt you could get it up anyway." She muttered and heaved him in a likely direction. The apartment wasn't very large, nowhere near as big as her loft apartment overlooking the river in New York, it wouldn't take her too long to find the bedroom. She had a knack for it. She squeaked when Wilson suddenly stood under his own power, lifted her by the bare thighs and deposited her neatly on the hallway table. He stepped between her legs, the front of his slacks getting more than up close and personal with her denim shorts, and loomed over her.

"I dunno, after a few years of being on call, one learns to rise to any occasion at any time." He bobbed his eyebrows at her and Darsha couldn't resist a giggle. She should have been outraged, being manhandled like this. Should have at least felt threatened, being cornered in a man's apartment but James Wilson had that boyish charm and a playful drunken exuberance about him that let her know his interest in her was being so blatantly shown as the purest form of flattery. He'd probably be guilt ridden tomorrow and terrified of Lisa finding out so…

So, Darsha reasoned with herself, all the more reason to take advantage of him now.

"Really?" He was attractive enough, gorgeous really, she supposed. She was hot for it. They were both single and consenting adults…why not let the good doctor think he'd seduced her?

"Yeah." Wilson nodded, the cheeky grin on his face. Oh, he had dimples, she was a gonner. "I mean, who knows when I have to give a hundred and ten percent?"

"You on call now?" Her fingers walked themselves up his arm and her arms slid around his neck. He was smoothing those big hands of his up her legs, plucking at the waistband of her shorts. His eyes were still glassy with drink but the drive over and the walk from the parking spot she'd found down the street had done a lot to sober him. He knew what he was doing, he just wasn't as anxious about it as he should have been.

"Depends, crook your finger and we'll see." His voice was a deep baritone, still playful, still giving her an out if she really wanted it.

She didn't.

One crooked finger later and he was showing her that a doctor's knowledge of anatomy could be put to _many_ good uses.

**Sinister Scribe**

House woke sometime later in the night. He lifted his head a fraction, thinking she had woken him in her attempts to slip out unnoticed, regrets having stolen into the room a little earlier than normal, but she was sprawled across his chest, naked as the day she was born and a whole lot less innocent. He smirked, a typical male, cat's got the cream smirk, and stroked a hand down her naked back. She shivered a little and he blearily pulled the sheet up over them.

She burrowed closer to him under the mound of blankets, making small pleasured sounds in the back of her throat, nothing like the screams of earlier but pleasured nonetheless.

It occurred to him that he didn't want to go back to sleep. He didn't want to hurry in the morning. Didn't want to watch her get huffily dressed, deny this had ever happened and tell him why it had been such a crappy idea in the first place. He'd point out that she'd started it, she'd say that she'd been drunk and it was typical of him to take advantage like the callus bastard he was, then it would dissolve into a screaming match and she'd slam out the door.

Just like last time…and the time before that one and…a pattern appeared to be emerging.

He rubbed at her back again. She held onto him tighter, riotous curls tickling at his chin. Something had to break the cycle at some point. Maybe this was it. This could be his chance. He grunted in the back of his throat and wondered if the booze was killing off more brain cells than usual. It was impossible to think that anything…_good_ could work between them. Not just the sex, the sex was _always_ good but something…as cheesy and Hallmark card as it sounded…something more. He wanted more. She made him hungry for it and always left him at the table without ever bringing a second course to sate his appetite. His jaw clenched.

Sure, he was screwed up. He'd be the first to tell anybody that, but he was functioning. It stood to reason that they could function…didn't it.

"Ah, crap." He muttered, hand scrubbing over his face. "When did I turn into the woman?" She, of course, was putting off her coyote ugly moment until the morning when she woke up and discovered what exactly she had gone and gotten drunk and done again.

House sighed and traced small patterns on her shoulder. Usually when he was awake like this he got up, drank scotch and played his piano until the fatigue finally beat him into submission and he crawled back to bed but, right now, he was warm and comfortable and the unbeatable radiator of her body heating his thigh was keeping it bearable.

So he lay in the dark, stared at the ceiling and waited for the moment to break with the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

_**I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaacckkkk!!!!!!**_

_**I mean, seriously folks, when was the last time that I wrote a purely smutty chapter of some of 100 per cent huddy? We're talking Snow White (but I drifted) Huddy here. Stuff you can't BUY on the streets because by all rights it should kill you.**_

_**This one is for Huddysmutkitten, who has been after me to write something dominating for House and Cuddy since…forever. Yeah, I've just resigned myself to corrupting the young. Get over it. **_

_**Full on ratings here. Not just M for Mmmmmmmmm-**__**harder!**_** but if there's a rating after that, then that's what this is rated. Not as vanilla as you're used to from me. **

**Wilson and Darsha's morning after will probably be tamer (slightly) and in the next chapter. I just really wanted to post this because it was TOO HAWT FOR THE COMPUTAA!!!**

**::EDIT:: Sorry if this turns up as being updated twice for some folks but i didn't get the chance to beta it the first time around and i had to get rid of the duck. Extra points if you can figure out what the hell i'm talking about and, if you knew the first time, thanks for not mentioning.**

**And i had to fix the underline. **

**Ahem, enjoy, read, review. **

**Morning After the Night Before**

Cuddy was dreaming of…water. Her eyes scrunched blearily and she was aware of the fact that the force five hangover that had been brewing since last night was hiding just over the horizon and waiting to rain merry hell in her head for the rest of the day for daring to have a few drinks last night and…oh _dear._

Cuddy knew without opening her eyes, even without the musky scent of him, who it was that had her half pinned to the mattress under the heavy weight of his arm and leg, whose breath it was warm against her neck, who had put those delicious pangs in her muscles deep inside. There was, after all, only one man that she had her serial one-night stands with. She was not looking forward to waking him. She'd long ago given up on trying to sneak out without disturbing him, he was too aware of her, even in sleep. As if sensing her thoughts, his arm tightened on her waist, hand snaking up to cup her breast and pinch her nipple in a way that had her gasping and her eyes flying wide. Sensation sang through her body like she was one of his instruments that he could play so well.

Her hair was nosed out of the way and hot little kisses were dropped over her rapidly flushing skin. She was panting already, having gone from zero to _WANT _in a touch. His tongue joined the cocktail of sensation and she drank from it as deeply as she had the expensive Scotch from last night. She whimpered, wriggling back against him.

"Awake yet?"

Just like that, the spell was broken. She went stiff in his arms and he sighed against her neck.

"Don't." He told her, kissing higher up over the column of her throat.

"House, we should…"

"Be quick, or you'll be late." He interrupted her determinately, cupping her neck in one hand and turning her chin around to him so he could devour her mouth in a deep swallowing kiss that was punctuated by their mutual growls and groans deep into the other's throat. Cuddy squirmed, knowing she should put a halt to this. Jumping him for some much needed nookie while she was hammered was one thing, but letting him have his way with her when she didn't have the veil of the Influence of That Evil Brew to hide behind?

Madness.

He shifted on the mattress, the hot satin suede of his cock sliding against her lower back. Her spine arched so she could grind back against him and he purred right into her. Her hand fisted in the sheet and twisted hard with a punctuating whimper from her. He kept one hand on her neck, pinning her half under him, his free hand sliding through the gap between the inward curve of her slim waist and the mattress, his long talented fingers smoothing down over the planes of her stomach and delving between her legs petting the neat nest of curls there in a way that had her twisting in his hold. He was holding her firmly, an edge of danger to his grip on her throat, she'd have bruises, but nothing more dangerous than a love bite and nothing compared to the stripes she'd marked each orgasm he'd given her last night on his back with her nails.

His fingers dipped inside her, just testing her readiness. She was already creaming for him. Soaking his fingers. He pushed deeper, two long fingers deep inside, curling up towards her navel and scissoring apart, thrusting gently back and forth until she was keening and twisting in his grasp. Eyes heavy and glassy with lust and about to be more so. She was panting hard, her magnificent chest heaving against his arm as he gripped her neck. He pulled her mouth under his again and covered her lips with his own. Not for a kiss though, for something different, something that can only be done between the most compatible lovers. He breathed out, into her at the exact moment she inhaled a hurried breath. He felt her twitch in surprise but fell into the rhythm with him within the second breath. It was a mild form of asphyxiation. Both of them getting high off the carbon dioxide created between shared breathing. He kept her under his control for as long as he could, mastering even her very breath until she was completely passion drunk in his arms and surrendered to his will. He broke the seal of his mouth over hers and she sucked in a deep sweet breath that tasted all the better for being fresh.

She reached back and gripped his hip, nails punching into his skin hard enough to draw a growl from his breathless chest. She didn't really have enough air to speak yet, but she couldn't wait.

"Inside. Now." Was about all she could manage and even then it was ragged and desperate.

"I thought we shouldn't?" He laved his tongue around the sensitive shell of her ear. She shivered and yanked at his hip, pushing her lush ass back towards him.

"_Now…"_

"I want something first." He was toying with her, they both knew it, his hand still moved lazily back and forth inside her and she'd give him the moon right now if he asked for it.

"Whatever!"

"This becomes a regular thing."

She stilled at that, rational, sensible brain intruding and he just couldn't have that. He twisted his fingers inside her, added a third. She groaned long and low.

"Regular…how?" It was an effort for words, much less the thought behind them.

"I'm not just your booty call anymore." He growled into her ear, suddenly almost enraged. His body hard, his blood boiling with it and on the cusp of an orgasm that would likely blow the top of his cock off.

"You'll be _mine." _He panted through gritted teeth and wrestled his control back. Hot damn, she was going to agree. He could feel it, sense it, taste it. She wanted this as much as he did. He felt marginally stupid that all this time she'd simply been waiting for him to reach out and take it.

And her.

"Can't interfere with…" Her eyes rolled in her head when his thumb rolled over her clit. It took her almost five minutes to learn how to think around this new sensation. Her hand tightened on his hip hard enough to draw blood from under her delicate nails.

"It won't interfere with work, but if I want you at the hospital, I'll take you there, understand? You agree to this and you're mine. All of you." He jerked at her neck and ground the heel of his hand against her soaked clit. "_All mine." _He was practically snarling in her ear and he could feel as well as see how much it turned her on. He wasn't hurting her, not really, not any more than she was hurting him. He had deep score marks over his hip now, blood trickling over his thigh. "Well?" He could barely speak he wanted her so much, wanted inside her, wanted to possess her.

She lay there, in his hold, apparently at his mercy, but they both knew different. All she had to do was say no and they'd go back to the way things were. Maybe a little worse, maybe a little better, but essentially the same. The decision was in her hands. She just had to say the word. Nod her head, and he'd give her everything she wanted while slaking himself on her at every opportunity.

Oddly enough, it was the thought of her sister that tipped the scales of her decision. Darsha. Young Darsha, carefree Darsha, sassy, sexy, _happy_ Darsha and why? Because she didn't over analyse things. She knew how to kick back and let the moment, or the man, take her as they would. Maybe it was time for Darsha to teach Lisa something instead of the other way around.

"Lisa?" His voice rumbled over her, through her, around her like a physical thing.

Her jaw bumped against his thumb as she nodded her agreement.

There was a moment of still. One horrible moment when she thought he'd realised that things said in the heat of passion weren't things he could possibly follow through on and then he was on her.

A pillow was dragged down over the bed and stuffed under her hips in the same instant he rolled her over onto her stomach beneath him. He nudged her legs apart with his hips and she swallowed hard at being so easily manhandled. He could do whatever he wanted to her. He really could. It was only his tenuous good graces that had allowed her the choice. They both knew that he could have her any time he wanted, not that he would ever force her, but he could certainly convince her to be taken with that silver tongue and those wicked fingers of his.

No liquor needed.

The long hot length of his shaft brushed against the creamy seam of her cleft and her eyes rolled back in her head again. Her head and shoulders were down low, she was resting mostly on her elbows but she raised herself on her knees as much as she could. Grinding back against him as he thrust the head of his cock along her sex in a dangerous teasing game for them both. With one final gentle push at her neck, to remind her of her place, both his hands trailed down her spine, followed by his lips and tongue to toy with the dimples at her lower back. Then he nibbled on the toned curve of her ass, hands sliding over her hips and under her, smoothing over her ribs and then weighing her breasts in his hands. She hadn't been lying when she'd said that she believed her breasts were one of her best features and she'd be lying now if she said that she wasn't proud of the way her curves spilled from even around his large hands. The way her nipples would look, peeking from between those graceful fingers of his, the way they felt when he scissor those same fingers together and caught her nipples in a pinching caress that had her flexing against him.

"Greg…"

"Gregory." He corrected her roughly. "Not as pompous as 'Master'," she could hear his mocking smirk even if she couldn't see it, "and no one else calls me that. Only you will. Your name for me alone."

Her stunned expression, at being allowed a key into his privacy, was swallowed by a look of rapture lighting her face up from within when he thrust forward and into her in one _long_, slow glide. When he was buried balls deep inside her, he lowered himself right along her spine, so there was nothing between them but sweat and harsh breathing. He held himself up on his elbows so that she had enough room to breathe, but that was all the freedom he allowed her. One hand gripped both her wrists in front of her, pinning them to the mattress, and the other buried itself in her hair. Gathering it all up into one spooling handle around his big hand, even looping the silken mass once around his wrist, pulling her head back and causing her to arch her back until she was raised, her sex flush and clenching around his. Her mouth worked, she wanted to say something to get across how _amazing_ this felt but, as they often did, her words failed her in his presence.

She wasn't the Alpha Dean of Medicine here. She wasn't in charge, or the boss or even capable of stringing a sentence together, never mind whipping up a scathing retort that would be needed to keep him in line.

Neither did she want to be.

She could do what she wanted. He was in charge, in control, keeping _her _in line. She could do whatever the hell she wanted and he'd be the one to stay in control. He'd pull her back from the edge and…wasn't that what she had been afraid off for all these years? Not having a man strong enough to pull her back?

A tad monumentally stupid that he'd been quite literally a word away for all these years.

"Ready?"

"God yes!" Ready? What was he waiting for? She'd been ready since the first time she'd jumped him twenty years ago. She was _so _ready.

"Yes…_what?"_

"Yes," her tongue swiped over her lips and she panted hard. "_Yes, _Gregory."

"Good girl."

Then he began to move and her eyes rolled back in her head, her hands turning to claws in the sheets. She moaned hard. Groaning as if pained. He was going too slowly! She whimpered and wriggled back against him as much as his harsh hold would allow. She spread her legs wider and flexed her hips back and up against him in an almost impossible show of human elasticity.

Yoga was a wonderful thing sometimes.

"Tease." He growled into her shoulder, circling his hips against her. Taunting her with his flesh.

"Me?" She gasped under him. Writhing. "Greg-oh-reee…don't you want to fill me?" She turned her head as much as his grip would allow. "Take me as hard as we can both go?" She was panting now, her entire body seething around him. She could see the fire in his eyes. The barely banked flames that he was just managing to keep under control. "Show me who's boss?"

The fire leapt high and he loomed over her, drawing back out of her until only the very tip of his cock was being clung to by her hungry body.

"Minx." He gritted and slammed forward. The air rushed from her lungs on an inarticulate cry of ecstasy and she clenched around him. He let go of her wrists, red and bruised from his tight hold, and braced himself on that hand so as to better move within her. She bucked under him, going wild, mad for him.

Made for him.

He loved it.

Then the music started. House stilled in surprise and Cuddy mewled in disappointment, completely oblivious to any form of interuption. All thought processes focused on the hard man filling her and how he had suddenly stopped moving.

"…_I'm not here for your entertainment, you don't really wanna mess with me tonight!…" _House looked at Cuddy with a small smirk and licked his lips at such a ripe opportunity. _"Keep your drink, just gimme the money, it's just you and your hand tonight!" _

The perky tune 'U + Ur Hand' by P!nk, filled the room, accompanied by the telltale buzzing of the vibration setting of a cell rattling against hardwood flooring.

"Lisa, phone." He reached over her, down over the side of the bed and extracted her slim cell handset from the rumpled mess of her clothes. He held it out to her and she shook her head.

"Leave it."

He blinked at those words. Odd…he looked at the caller ID and smirked. No wonder she didn't want to answer given her current _situation._ It was one of the board members, no doubt mewling to mommy about something she had little to no interest in and was, if the ring-tone was anything to go by, a ruse to try and get into _his_ Dean of Medicine's panties. He held it out to her and shifted subtly inside her.

"Answer it."

She shook her head mutely, twisting under him for that last desperate sensation that would send her over the edge into blissed out nirvana. He wanted her there too, but he wanted to make a point first.

"You said that you wouldn't let this interfere…"

"Exactly why I'm insisting you take the call." He reasoned smoothly. Mischievously. He dangled the cell in front of her nose, her panting breaths huffing against his fingers. "He could need something important. Answer."

"Why?"

"Because I'm telling you to and away from work, you do as I tell you."

"That mean you'll do what I tell you at work." She was procrastinating. Hoping it would ring out while they argued. Not likely. House knew Quincy, knew how determined he was to have Cuddy and was equally determined that he never share breathing space with her so long as he was there to prevent it. It was quite something when somebody made _House's_ skin crawl.

"Answer it or I will." He snapped and that had the desired effect.

She snatched the phone from him and snapped it open.

"Doctor Cud-dah!" Cuddy gasped, completely taken by surprise when House gave a sudden _heft_ inside her. Right to the hilt. For a moment, she couldn't even breathe but then managed to suck in a breath and reached to grip his wrist. Digging her claws in while searching for the control enough to breathe out slowly.

"Yes, Doctor Quincy, I'm fine. Oh…speaker phone." She swallowed with an audible gulp. "Goody." She sounded like she'd rather have a root canal without anaesthesia. House began to work on her free ear and she tried to squirm away from him, but there was very little she could do about it when he still had her hair as a handy hold to anchor her exactly where he wanted her. He nibbled on her neck.

"Y-yes, I'm still here." She swallowed again and he smirked savagely against her neck. The power felt amazing.

He pumped his hips.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

"My input?" She sounded strangled, even to him. She cleared her throat and tried again at a more mundane tone. "What's so important that it can't wait for me to get there in person?" _Preferably without my head Diagnostician's cock sliding in and out of me so wicked slow that I want to scream with it._ That last part was silent but House knew she was thinking it.

"You're not going anywhere, Lisa." He whispered in her free ear. "Until I fuck every last drop of cum out of you." He thrust into her harder, hard enough to slide her an inch or so up the bed, just to make his point.

She held her cell away from her ear and buried her face into the mattress to muffle her moan.

"_Doctor Cuddy?" _

House could hear the tinny voice of one of the board members speaking through the connection. He drew her head up from the mattress with her hair and ground into her again, forcing her to clap a hand over her mouth and sink her teeth into the fleshy part of her hand between thumb and fore finger to keep from crying out.

"Answer him." He near silently ordered her.

"Get the information from my assistant he, she has all the pertinent files." Her voice was ragged. "I gave her detailed instructions earlier…late last night."

House released her hair and it tumbled down over her flushed skin in a skein of raven silk. His tongue traced over his lips, he took the phone from her limp fingers, pinning both her hands again and holding the phone for her. He continued to thrust into her, slowly but oh-so hard, grunting deep in his throat with each deep plunge.

"Shh." She attempted to quiet him. Sounded more like one of her whimpers.

She had allowed him to put her into a totally submissive position and it had worked him up more than he could have ever imagined. The possibility of discovery of the Board itself was an extra punchy spike to the mix of erotic pleasure.

"_Are you sure, Doctor Cuddy?" _

With a low growl Cuddy ripped one of her hands from House's hold and snatched the phone from him. "Don't question me." She snapped. She tried to clip the phone shut but House's grip stopped her again. He wasn't letting her off that easily. He held her immobile and nuzzled her ear.

"No." He was quiet enough to mostly go unheard but the entire Board would all have to be as stupid as they looked to not know what was going on this side of the cell connection. "Leave it on. If you come, everyone in the room will hear you. Does that turn you on?" She was creaming for him. He knew it did. "Do you want that?"

She was still in possession of enough of her faculties to shake her head hard, curls bouncing over her shoulders and back in that way he loved. Damn, she was sexy as hell and loving every minute of his control. He continued fucking her, as deeply and as powerfully as he could. She was trembling so hard, body clenching around his cock that he could tell he had her right where he wanted her. She was so close.

"Don't come until I tell you." He murmured to her. He could hear the board trying to get her attention on the other end of the line but the phone was mostly forgotten, lying on the mattress. Those boring suits at work were no match for the feel of his massive dick sliding in and out of her slick pussy.

"Bastard." She whispered. Just loud enough for him to hear.

"I know you better than you know yourself, Lisa. I will control you in bed." He pumped into her faster, not hard, just thoroughly deep strokes. He continued to speak quietly in her ear, low enough so he wouldn't be heard over the phone. "They can hear you, Lisa. Hear your laboured breathing, they know you're getting fucked. They're wondering who's the lucky bastard pumping your pussy."

"They can't." Her denial was weak and uncertain, they both knew it. They probably couldn't but she wasn't sure and he planned to use that.

"They're all gathered around the speakerphone, listening, waiting to hear you scream from the orgasm I'm going to give you. Jealous that my cock is the one inside you instead of theirs."

"Gregory…_please…"_

He smirked at the sinfully sexy way she drew out that name. Her name for him. She was begging, she was ready.

"Say goodbye." He held the phone up.

"I said speak to my assistant. If it's that desperate then it can wait for me." He marvelled at the ice she could inject into her tone at will but knew as soon as that phone shut and he buried himself in her again it would be melted to steam. He clipped the phone shut and thrust into her as deep as he could go. She screamed a harsh yell and he grinned savagely.

"Luckily for you, I'm not here for their pleasure. This is between you and me and only you and me." He increased his pace, rolling his hips into hers faster and faster until she was bucking up and back against him, keening in pleasure. His hand snaked back down between her legs and he was gratified to find her sopping wet for him. "Now, come for me!" He thrust into her, one more time, slamming as deep and as hard into her as he could go.

"Gregory!" His name was torn from her.

He felt the spasms wracking her body, rolling through her as she thrashed about wildly under him. Three more hard thrusts and she was launched into a second orgasm.

"Yes! Don't stop!" Her little fist pounded the bed and she bowed under him, mindless with pleasure. He would love nothing more than to grant that very wish, but the climax raced through him and shattered his body like a hammer blow to glass. He stiffened, back arching and clawing at her hips. Her name bellowed from between his lips and he spilled his seed in the deepest part of her. He felt her spasm a third time and milk his body better than any other woman ever had.

After long, mind-blowing, moments of sheer pleasure, they collapsed together onto the bed. Heaving and trying to catch their breath.

He felt her stiffen under him and shut his eyes in a silent denial of what was about to come. Then he flipped her over with his hands on his hips to face the problem head on. She blinked at this tactic, apparently having expected to get away with railing at him with her back turned.

"Don't."

His single word had her clicking her mouth shut even as she opened it to tear a strip out of him. She glowered at him.

"We have an accord. You agreed to it while I was balls deep in you and your sweet little box was squeezing me so hard I felt it in my eyeballs. You're crazy if you think you can go back on that."

She blinked at him rapidly and then managed to formulate a reply.

"I was just going to say that neither of us used protection."

House opened his mouth and, for the first time in as long as he could remember, was rendered utterly speechless. Then, when he identified the…_satisfied_ feeling that bloomed in his chest at that knowledge, he knew that he, for one, was well beyond the point of being protected by anything.


End file.
